


Lock, Stock, and Buttsex

by Lightspeed



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM Scene, Bondage, Come Marking, Come Shot, Consensual Non-Consent, Crying, Crying During Sex, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Embarrassment, Facials, Gangbang, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Rape Fantasy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Safewords, Shame, Stocks, gagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 02:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5894386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spy is happy to give his beloved Sniper whatever he wants.  Turns out what Sniper wants is a very specifically kinky version of what the whole team wants:  his ass and mouth.  In rough fashion, they set up a scene to give everyone a turn on him with the assistance of a set of stocks.</p><p>(Rape/Non-Con warning is because of the intense nature of the BDSM scene within the story, and Sniper's internal subspace.  He is fully consenting, as is everyone involved.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lock, Stock, and Buttsex

Sniper couldn't see any of them, and it terrified him. He craned and strained, turning this way and that, as if somehow if he got his head at the right angle, he'd be able to see around the planks of wood that sandwiched it and his hands in the three holes formed by their hinged closure. Bent at the waist and supporting his front solely on those wooden planks, the marksman fought and lost continually against his bonds, the latch and lock of the stocks rattling noisily with his fitful struggles.

His hands shook, his breath unsteady. He was stuck in place with no escape, no backup, no hope. It was just him, the shadowy lighting from behind, and the quiet shuffling and chuckling of his captors, staying purposefully out of his sight. He knew they were back there, staring him down, making their plans. They had done well enough wrestling him into the contraption, then stripped him of his clothes with grasping hands and cutting steel. Naked and captive, his stomach clenched tightly in anticipation of what he would be made to endure.

A warm hand palmed at his ass. Sniper half-jumped, his breath catching, and it gave him a good squeeze before letting go, leaving him with a swat that seemed surprisingly loud in the quiet room.

“You goin' to do it, or what?” he grunted, settling his wrists onto the leather-rimmed edges of the stocks that held him, grudgingly grateful for the barrier against the rough wood.

A bit of murmuring behind him. Several voices speaking in hushed tones. Finally, he heard the click of shoes coming round, and a pair of finely-tailored, pin-striped navy trousers came into his view. The acrid scent of smoke gently tinged with menthol entered his nose and filled his lungs. A hand came down to pet at his chin, covered in soft leather so perfectly crafted that it looked like it was painted on. Two fingers tilted his head up the small distance it could crane, and Spy leaned over into eyeshot, a smirk across his thin, stubble-rimmed lips. He took his cigarette from between his lips and blew smoke in the bushman's face, making his eyes water and his mind rankle with sudden nicotine cravings. It had been hours since he'd had a cig.

“Of course we are going to, mon chasseur. But it would be little fun if you were not prepared for tonight's festivities, would it?” the rogue teased, smugness written across his face. As he studied Sniper's features, screwed up into a snarl, something softened in his own countenance. It was just the slightest bit, a widening of his pupils, a twitch of his eyebrows, but the superiority in his affect cracked enough to let a mixture of concern and adoration peek through, and he pet at Sniper's chin with his thumb. He knelt down to meet Sniper face-to-face and took hold of the back of his head before leaning in for a kiss.

It was soft, warm, and not at all the harassment of captor to captive. It spoke volumes in whispered nothings, and when their lips parted, Spy reminded him, “Remember, the word is 'boomerang'. Stomp your foot if you cannot speak.”

Sniper frowned. “Bloody hell, love, I remember the safe word. It's been ten minutes.” He hated when Spy broke scene with his inability to not dote on the lanky Australian. It came from a place of love and worry, but it was no less frustrating to be pulled from subspace like that. It took time to work himself into the right frame of mind for this sort of thing, after all.

“Désolé,” Spy murmured, pressing another soft kiss to his lover's lips. Sniper was an old hand at this, after all. He knew what he was doing. With one last smile, he resumed his role, letting a sneer replace that warm look of adoration. He fisted his hand in Sniper's hair and kissed him roughly, plunging his tongue into the taller man's mouth and biting his lip upon retreat. Releasing the bushman, he stood and wiped off his knee.

Looking up, Sniper could see the bulge outlined in the Frenchman’s trousers. As much as he fretted, Spy got just as much of a kick out of this as he did. He let himself sink quickly back into the right headspace, tonguing at his bruised lip with a growl. He spat on the ground at Spy's feet and sneered up at him to the best of his ability. He was slapped across the cheek for his insolence.

Spy's belt came open with a jingle, and soon his fly was open and his cock being unsheathed from lycra undershorts. He took hold of Sniper by the hair again and shoved his cock into his captive's mouth, bucking once he was in to make him gag.

“What'chu think,” came a low purr from behind the stocks, a Texan drawl warming Sniper as it slithered into his ears, “is he ready?”

Rocking into Sniper's mouth, Spy grunted quietly, that tongue going obediently to work on him in ways that were not suited to the scene, so much as the bushman's familiarity with the cock between his lips. The hand in his hair tightened harder. “He's quite ready. Sufficiently cowed enough to be our little plaything for the evening,” the rogue explained, his voice frayed with heavy breaths. “It is not like he could fight back much, anyway.”

“Suppose he couldn't, could he?” Engineer hummed. He ran a hand up their captive's back, scratching gently with the blunt nails of his flesh hand. Craning forward to address Sniper, he grinned just in his peripheral vision as Spy continued to shallowly thrust into his mouth. “Good thing, 'cause we're gonna have a lotta fun with you, boy. Gonna fuck that narrow ass of yours 'til you cry. Stretch you out real good.” He grinned that crooked grin of his, leaning atop the stocks almost casually. “You get me, boy? Bet you can't wait to get stuffed so fulla come you'd be coughin' it up if we weren't makin' you drink just as damn much. If I had it my way, you'd be on the floor like the dog you are, lappin' up lukewarm spunk out a plastic bowl for your supper. As it is, I hope you _love_ the taste of cock, son. 'Cause you're about to get awful used to it.” Engineer chuckled, his voice dark and heavy, a viscous liquid that threatened to drown Sniper in its sensual tones. It conveyed lust and violence in equal measure, and the marksman had no doubt that the stout Texan meant every last word of what he said. He moaned around Spy's cock in his mouth, a shiver caught between his shoulderblades.

“That could still be arranged, mon ami,” Spy hummed, releasing Sniper's hair to give him a scratch behind the ear. “If he is a good enough boy this time.”

Both men shared a laugh at that. It was then that Engineer motioned behind him. In a moment Sniper tensed up, nearly choking on Spy as a sudden coldness pressed against heated flesh, a lube-slick finger poking against his asshole. Engineer's warm hand rubbed soothing circles on his upper back as he tried to calm down, to relax, to allow the digit invading his body entry. To clench against it would do nothing but prolong things, and make them more difficult and painful. Sniper knew his lot. He was locked in stocks with a man leisurely fucking his mouth. Another was chuckling at his expense, at the strained grunt rising in his throat, petting at him condescendingly and murmuring, “Attaboy, ease into it. Ain't no use fightin' it. You're gettin' fucked tonight, son. So you might as well let us make it easier on you, 'cause we're taking your ass no matter what.” Six more men were out of his sight, looking on as one of their number wiggled his finger into Sniper's tight ass, forcing him open.

He took a deep breath through his nose, the scent of Spy's arousal and pheromones filling his senses. It almost took him out of subspace again, the familiar scent that held such comfort, such familiarity for him. But Spy's gloved hand fisting again in his hair kept him in it, kept him lamenting his position, kept him despising the man whose cock filled his mouth. His tongue cupped its underside as the rogue thrust against it.

The finger slipped inside with some effort, slick with lube and thick in diameter, clad in a rubber glove. There was no doubt that the tedious task of preparation had been assigned to Medic. Pyro was unlikely, considering the patience required, and the expert way that finger moved, hooking and tugging to the sides to force his muscles to relax, was very much the doctor's signature. The man was terribly skilled at preparing an ass as efficiently as possible, and it was working well. It was nearly no time at all when a second finger pushed into him, the warm burn of stretched muscle and filled hole making Sniper tingle pleasantly.

He hadn't even realized he'd begun softly groaning around Spy until warm words in a sultry Southern accent told him, Engineer's derisive laugh accompanied a husky murmur of, “You're lovin' it already, you ol' slut. Two fingers in you and already you're whinin' for more. Good thing that's what you're gettin'.”

“Perhaps he's hungry,” Spy teased, rocking into his captive's mouth a bit faster, a bit more insistently. He prodded the entrance to his lover's throat, gently getting him used to the sensation. Sniper always needed time to warm up to deepthroating. Even so, the warm, wet heat of the bushman's mouth was intoxicating, bringing him swiftly closer and closer to orgasm with every thrust. How he loved that man's lips and tongue, the prickly brush of stubble against his balls a delightful sensation.

“Good thing you've got a nice hot meal ready for him, then,” Engineer said, grinning darkly.

Medic's humming could be heard dimly behind him, the doctor scissoring his fingers to open Sniper's hole further, a small giggle escaping him as his captive shivered and grunted, wriggling away from his probing fingers to little avail. His free hand groped at the bushman's ass cheek, squeezing and slapping lightly, toying with him. Sniper's cock hung between his thighs, half-hard and peeking out of its foreskin. Medic let that teasing hand slip down the man's taint, drawing a line along his balls before grabbing rough hold of his cock and giving it a squeeze. He earned a clench around his fingers for it, and spread them one last time. “He is ready!” the doctor called, sliding his slippery fingers out and moving aside.

“About damn time,” Engineer growled, cuffing Sniper's head lightly. “Hope you're prepared for this, boy. I'm 'bout to ride you hard and put you away wet.” The Texan disappeared from Sniper's view, back behind the stocks. There was the sound of zipper, and then a warm hand gripped the marksman's hip. “Doc, wanna gimme a hand?”

“Of course,” Medic laughed, and the pop of a lubricant bottle's cap met Sniper's ears, followed by a small sigh from Engineer as the doctor's gloved hand spread the slippery fluid over his cock.

“Them surgeon's hands are a beautiful thing. Thank you kindly,” Engineer said, and when Medic was finished, turned his attention back to Sniper's presented ass. His legs were flexed, sinewy muscle straining with tension, his whole body anticipating what was to come. He was about to be violated by the stout mechanic, and could do nothing to fight his fate. Engineer slapped his cock against Sniper's hole a few times, teasing at him, then pushed inside.

Sniper went stiff, crying out around Spy's cock. The fat, hot length of the Texan's erection slipped deeper and deeper, and when he was rooted in the bushman's body, the warm skin of his hips against his ass, his balls resting against his taint, Sniper felt a wave of revulsion well within him. It was one thing to have his mouth used. It was one thing to be forced to suck cock, to accept Spy's thrusts against his tongue. He'd be able to wash the taste away when he was freed. If he was freed. But to be opened and entered in his most private of places, to feel Engineer slip his cock up his ass and grind against him, it sent a fresh shock of shame and disgust through him. He could feel the fat cock in his ass, filling him, stretching him open, and he felt unclean.

When Engineer began to move, sliding out only to force himself in again with a hard thrust, taking his time with being utterly rough, Sniper could feel his guts knot up, and he voiced his protest in a spit-slick cry around Spy.

The gloved hand in his hair tightened at that, and he soon found Spy's cock slipping deeper entering his throat just barely as his body rocked forward to meet his thrusts with each slam from Engineer behind him. The Texan grunted and chuckled, strong hands gripping his hips as he tugged him back to meet each push. Sniper half-gagged as Spy teased into his throat, his breath quickening and the juddering of his hips growing more erratic. The Frenchman didn't care about the awful sound that left his captive, possibly even enjoyed it. His free hand came down to grasp at the base of his cock, and soon he was rutting shallowly against Sniper's tongue again, close to the edge.

Engineer built up a rhythm, his hips slapping against the Australian's ass with regularity, shoving his cock in as deep as it would go and taking his pleasure of the hot, tight depths of his captive's body. “You look real fine with my dick in your ass,” he murmured, grunting with the strain of forcing himself on the taller man with such effort. “Look even better with my spunk leakin' outta you.”

Sniper felt his cock slap against his belly, hard and warm against his cooling skin, and it made him sick. He could picture it in his head, his hole gaping in the Texan's wake, shiny with lubricant, white fluid slowly dripping out and down his taint. His face grew hot, disgusted with Engineer, disgusted with his body for reacting like it was, shame flaring like a bright flame behind his eyes.

Spy's grip tightened to painful levels, and a harsh gasp of, “Ingénieur, arrêtez!” preceded the Frenchman sliding out of Sniper's mouth. Engineer did as he was told, stalling out inside of the taller man as Spy held his head steady, tilting his face up, the hand on his cock beginning to stroke the second he'd left his captive's lips. His hand sped in quick jerks, half-erratic just like his short, gasping breaths. He grunted and came, shooting his load onto Sniper's face, painting him with his seed in four spurts. He smeared it over the man's skin with the head of his cock, rubbing it over his cheeks and nose, up to his forehead and along his jaw. The rough stubble there made Spy jerk away, the sensation too much for his overstimulated flesh, and he finished by pushing between his come-slick lips to give him a final taste before pulling out and stepping away to admire his handiwork.

The smell of Spy's come filled Sniper's nose, the thick fluid on his skin cooling quickly and making his flesh feel tight where it immediately set to drying. He could see the glisten in the low light, spread across the tops of his cheeks and bridge of his nose, right in his line of sight. He tasted salty and just a little bitter, and the familiar flavour sent a pang right to Sniper's balls. He sagged in his bonds, casting his gaze to the floor now that his hair was no longer being pulled. He couldn't bare to look at the well-dressed rogue who had used his mouth and marked his face, grinning with lurid triumph at the fruits of his labour. Then Engineer resumed thrusting, and his stomach flipped again, his jaw clenching tight against the rising nausea of being used by these men.

“You done up there?” A pair of sneakers entered Sniper's view, stepping up beside Spy's pointed shoes, and the bushman fought back amusement by how small both men's feet were. Scout reached forward, tilting Sniper's chin up with his thumb and forefinger, grinning as he appraised his teammate's artistry. He whistled, buck teeth pressing into his lower lip. The athlete's face, normally endearingly youthful, now read entirely predatory and it seemed an unnervingly appropriate fit for the former street tough. The smirk that tugged at his pink lips betrayed his nature as a man who had spent a surprising amount of his short life beating people to death for money. “Would you lookit that,” he mused, turning Sniper's head this way and that to get a good look at him. “Wears it real pretty, man. You think we should make this a group art project? Or should I just help with that all-meat diet he's gonna be on from now on?” Scout palmed at himself through his pants to illustrate, letting go of Sniper to unbuckle his belt.

“That is your choice, mon ami,” Spy shrugged, lighting a cigarette after tucking himself back into his pants. He sauntered out of Sniper's sight, rounding the stocks to watch Engineer work, the Texan grunting as he grit his teeth and continued slamming into the taller man with rough strokes. His thrusts were growing faster, closer together, and it wasn't long now. Spy leaned against the wall and smoked as he watched, casting a glance to Scout as the younger man opened his trousers and pushed the fabric away down his hips. He took his cock in one wrapped hand and pressed it to Sniper's lips, allowing him to be the one to draw it in.

“Yeah, that's right,” Scout groaned. He laced his fingers together behind the older man's head, holding him in place, and began to fuck his face with little ceremony. Pushing into his throat, Scout kept him from pulling away as he gagged around him, grinning wider as the Australian fought against him, thrashing as his guts clenched up and his stomach threatened to rise. After a moment of torment, he pulled out, letting Sniper gasp and cough, drool spilling over his lips.

Scout tapped his chin with his cock and asked, “Got anything to say to me?” If he'd gone too far, this was Sniper's chance to tell him, to use the safe word and have him stop.

Sniper spat at the floor, getting one last cough up before turning his gaze up to Scout. “Fuck you,” he snarled, and immediately, the younger man took hold of him and shoved his cock back into his mouth, ramming it back into his throat with a content chuckle.

Both holes being used with little concern for his comfort, Sniper did the best he could to keep from gagging, opening his throat to Scout. Each slap of Engineer's hips against him sent Scout back in deep, stealing his breaths as he tried to catch them with each retreat of the athlete from his throat. He grew dizzy, electric heat humming through his body and pooling in the pit of his stomach.

Engineer stalled out inside of him, the clenches from his gagging and coughing too much to bear. A breathy groan was all the sound he made as he doubled forward and came, forcing his load deep into Sniper's ass. The bushman groaned around Scout, the noise breaking off into a choked silence as his throat was once again entered, his body quaking with the heat of Engineer's release. The stout Texan pulled out unceremoniously, taking a moment to enjoy the sight of Sniper gaping in his wake, a bit of his come dripping out and down the taller man's taint. “Ain't that a purty sight.”

“Wunderschön,” Medic agreed, nudging his teammate aside to take up the spot behind Sniper. “Und ready for more.” His belt clicked and clacked, undone easily followed by a loud zip of his fly. The older man hitched his trousers down, tugging them down around his hips and exposing his own ass with little regard. His bare hands brushed lightly over Sniper's thighs, running up to cup his cheeks and squeeze. He spread him that way, and with a bit of angling, pressed the head of his cock just into the taller man's waiting hole. With a pleased sigh, he pushed inside, the way already slick with lube and the Texan's come.

Sniper nearly whimpered as the next cock entered him, another man taking his ass, another fucking his mouth. He could still smell Spy's come, its scent mingling with the aroma of Scout's pheromones, strong where his nose was pressed into the young man's pubic hair. There was no period of adjustment, just the German doctor getting right to work, fucking him with quick, even thrusts. He was trying to get off with a pace like that. No lingering, no savoring the hot ass he drove into with efficient timing. His belt jingled with each movement of his hips, each light slap of skin to skin, and above it all, Sniper could hear Medic groaning. As purposeful as his strokes were, there was no doubt as to how good it felt to the older man, his moans coming breathy and with slowly increasing volume. Scout watched him as he fucked away, meeting his strokes with his own bucks into their captive's throat, groaning in turn.

“Shit Doc, nail that ass. You make some hot fuckin' noises, you know that? He feel that good?”

“So gut,” Medic replied with a particularly hard thrust, making Sniper grunt. “He is so hot, und tight, even after Engie has had his turn. Are you sure you want his mouth?”

Scout hissed a breath, pulling back to let Sniper suck in a deep breath before burying himself as deep as he could and shallowly rocking into his throat. “Fuck yeah, I do,” he groaned, gripping his head tighter. Sniper's throat quivered and clutched at Scout's cock, trying to swallow around him but unable to, left fighting and twitching around the intrusion. The marksman's chest burned, the need for air growing, and the sensation made his balls ache.

“You oughtta feel this,” Scout murmured, growing quiet and bowing over his captive. “So good, so good, so fuckin' _good_!” He forced himself to arch back as his orgasm hit with force, making his whole body jerk as he emptied himself into Sniper's mouth. The bushman grunted in disgust as the thick fluid filled his senses, salty and tangy and flooding his mouth alongside the thick saliva that came from having his throat violated. He sucked at Scout, spending him out, and swallowed it all down with a shudder. He panted as the younger man pulled out of his mouth and stayed there a moment, collecting himself with his cock pressed against Sniper's lips.

Medic giggled. “I suppose it must!” he teased, picking up speed.  Sniper's body was trembling and quaking as he wrestled with his own disgust and pleasure, and with each gag the young man had elicited, the Australian had clenched viciously around Medic's cock. He chased that delicious pleasure, driving into the captive gunman with purpose. “Ja, jaaa...”

Scout stumbled away from Sniper, giving him a parting grin as he disappeared back behind the stocks, replaced almost immediately with the broad, strong frame of Soldier. His boots were the first thing Sniper saw, and he looked up to see the midwesterner already had his cock in hand, the other hand gripping the top of the stocks behind him. He had little opportunity to catch his breath,  the thick, mucousy saliva that had protected his throat dripping over his lips and down his chin. With a weary croak, he voiced his displeasure before having his mouth filled  with the American's length, shoved between his lips. Soldier gripped the stocks with both hands and began to thrust.

The stocks creaked as Soldier used them for leverage, rocking into Sniper's mouth with unabated ferocity. It was all the marksman could do to keep his teeth away, cupping his tongue and giving up on suction. Where Scout had made sport of just his throat, Soldier was taking it all, dragging his cock against his tongue then shoving it in deep, rubbing his throat raw with each pass, his balls slapping against the bushman's chin. He could barely breathe, barely react, only hang there in his restraints and be used. Tears sprang to his eyes, and he gagged with each retreat of the American's cock, only to be invaded again on the tail of a gasped breath.

With each gag, Sniper clenched again, squeezing Medic anew and bringing steadier, more insistent moans from him. His ass fairly fluttered with hard clamping around the doctor's cock, and soon Medic was bucking into him with abandon. He cursed in German, hissing dirty things that had Spy gently chuckling off to the side as he watched the man fuck their captive. Throwing back his head with a keen, Medic hammered into Sniper, milking out his orgasm in a series of sloppy thrusts that ended with him nearly crumpling in on himself, slipping out unceremoniously and leaning on the stocks for support.

“That's right, son. Choke on it,” Soldier grunted, humping the Australian's face. He ignored Medic half-draped over the stocks, staring intently down at where his cock disappeared between Sniper's lips over and over, emerging glistening in saliva and the mucous of his throat, slippery and a little sticky, before forcing it back in and feeling the man's throat open, then clench, spasming around gags.

Sniper did as he was told, unable to do otherwise. A mix of revulsion and the abuse of his gag reflex had the man's stomach threatening to rise in jumps and hitches, and it made his insides churn. He felt sick, nauseated physically and emotionally, his ass and throat sore, tears sliding down his cheeks in slow trails. Heat retreated from behind him and he knew Medic was gone, only for a pair of warm hands to grasp his cheeks and grope him, pressing fingers into the flesh of his meager ass and giving enthusiastic squeezes.

Hot skin met his back as Demoman bowed over him, pressing close against him and resting his chin on the stocks, chuckling from between Soldier's tightly gripping hands. He laughed a bit, watching the American fuck his face with hungry grunts, and slipped an arm around the bushman's slim body to tug slowly at his cock. “Yer hard as diamonds, ye wee slut. Love this, dinnae ye?” He hummed his amusement and straightened up, rubbing his cock between Sniper's ass cheeks. A bit of dry humping later, he slid inside with no warning, making the taller man jump in his bonds, an awful sound leaving his throat as he threw Soldier off of his rhythm.

“I am not trying to kill him,” the shorter man complained, going still for a moment to let Sniper cough it out. “Do not make me do it accidentally!”

“Aye, aye, relax and enjoy the ride, lad!” Demoman teased, sliding in to the hilt and rolling his hips against the Australian's, a groan leaving his throat. “Och, or keep 'im coughin'. Feels like feckin' heaven.”

Soldier smirked, shook his head, and waited for Sniper to gulp down a few mouthfuls of air before shoving his cock back into the man's mouth and resuming his abuse of it, a contented moan sounding his return to pleasure. He picked up his pace, rushing back toward the edge at double-time.

After a bit of idle grinding to let the bushman adjust to Soldier's renewed thrusting, Demoman decided to finally get to business. He leaned down and licked a stripe up Sniper's spine, sending a shiver through him, and then began to roll his hips, leisurely taking him, half-draped atop the man. His skin was sheened with sweat, and he trembled beneath him, his ass squeezing in uneven clenches as he fought and gagged against Soldier's assault, doing half the Scot's work for him. So instead, Demoman let his hands roam, groping legs, hips, sides, and back. He cupped his balls, rolling them in one dextrous hand, and chuckled as the attention had him shaking harder.

Were he able to, Sniper would have whimpered in loathing, feeling nerves light up and throbs of need pulse through his groin with each touch and tease, the bomber's hands seeking exactly the right spots to make his body want it as much as his mind did not. And that cock plunging unhurriedly in and out of him, hot and hard, only made it worse. Soldier provided enough distraction, but he wasn't sure for how long, and with thick saliva spilling over his lips with each piston-thrust into and out of his mouth, it seemed a shorter and shorter time.

Soldier grunted with each thrust, trailing groans at the end of each vocalization, Sniper's spit dripping down his balls in a near-rivulet at this point. He took the man's mouth, the hot wet friction of tongue and throat, and with a growl, filled it with his seed. He pulled almost completely out, pulsing between the taller man's lips as he came on his tongue, making sure he had to taste all of it before swallowing. And swallow he had to, Soldier keeping his cock right where it was until he felt his tongue rise and jaw tighten, the bushman gulping down his load and the pool of spit in his mouth with revulsion.

“That's a good lad,” Demoman teased, raking his nails down the bushman's lower back. The sagging body of the broken man beneath him arched, and he hissed as Soldier pulled out of his mouth, the freshly-clipped nails of the Scot's fingers proving just sharp enough to sting deliciously. “Och, aye, that's the way ye like it, then?” the bomber continued, scritching at the crest of Sniper's ass and enjoying the hoarse sounds that snuck out between his panting, wet breaths. The taller man's gasps we fairly gurgles, his abused throat coated in mucous to protect it, and he drooled freely, tears stinging his eyes.

He was horrified, he was ashamed. He was sore, and sick, and used, and his own body's betrayal, siding with the enemy who debased him with such disregard, had him shaking in a mixture of stimulus and abhorrence. Soon the man taking him was picking up speed, rutting into him as their bodies slapped together. He wept, bawling openly, fat tears rolling down his face, his voice rough coming in wails of soul-seep agony and body-wide horror. He snuffled and spat, red-faced and sore all over. The bomber fucking his ass cleaved to him tighter, bucked in harder, and crooned in his low, thick brogue how much he loved the hot, slippery mess that he'd become. How much come was in him, how much he was going to put in him. How much they could fill him with if they really wanted. There were eight of them, and they had him at their mercy. They could take turns as long as they wanted and fuck him for hours on end, stuffing him with come until he was gravid with other men's seed, feeling it slosh inside of him, feeling it slowly leak from his used hole and drip to the floor. They could cover him head-to-toe, fucking and pulling out, jerking off onto him, soaking him with thick, warm semen over every inch of him. They could do whatever they wanted to him, and there was naught he could do about it but be victim of it all.

And it made his cock throb in arousal and terror.

Pyro stepped in front of him, cock in hand, and pushed it into Sniper's mouth mid-sob, making the man shudder harder, his cry muffled and doubled, the indignity of the intrusion upon his weeping a final blow against him. He was broken, and resigned himself to curling his tongue around the masked mercenary's head, sucking him in, knowing he would be forced into it anyway. He curved his tongue against Pyro's shaft once the firebug took a wider stance, and allowed them to begin thrusting against it. Short, shallow strokes rutted roughly against the slick organ, and a muffled groan came from the arsonist's mask. Rubber-clad hands didn't touch Sniper, simply rested atop the stocks as their hips did all the work.

“Oh, aye, take it,” Demoman growled, grinning wide as he gripped Sniper's hips and fucked him for all he was worth, feeling fit to burst with how wanton and pathetic the captured man had become, clamping his ass down around the bomber's cock the moment he started cooing out dirty nothings at him. Each sob that wracked his body only tightened his grip, and he was almost sad not to watch the man crying up close. With a keen, he bucked in and came, filling Sniper with his load as promised, fucking him through his orgasm until he finally came down and slipped out. He took a moment to slide a finger into the man's open hole, teasing at his sore entrance. “Yer lovely, lad. A perfect hole tae shag,” he chuckled, wiping his finger off on Sniper's thigh and making way for the last man in line.

There was no teasing, no taunting, no dirty talk from behind Sniper as Heavy stepped up to him, simply the burn of being stretched once more as the Russian giant pushed in, his cock dwarfing the rest of the team's equipment and stealing his breath. It hurt. Just a little, but enough to shock him, to keep Sniper from zoning out and letting it happen. He was aware, fully and constantly, of the ache of being forced further open around Heavy. But he was so full and it was so wrong and it was awful but it was _good, so good._ He held his breath, holding in a sob and trying to ignore Pyro rocking into his mouth.

A pair of massive hands wrapped around his hips, and Sniper was startled by how warm they were on his sweaty skin, and he felt thumbs skirt his lower back, a gentle pet before the man began to move.

He buried himself in Sniper, making him yelp and rock forward, which made Pyro groan. Their hips stuttered, shaking as they held back from deeper strokes, content to enjoy his tongue and the warmth of his mouth, heavy breaths huffing through the filters of their mask.

Heavy was not so gentle, or so careful, savoring the heat of the smaller man before sliding back and slamming in roughly, moving Sniper bodily once again. He repeated the motion, his grin unseen by the gangly Australian who yelped with each plunge. He kept a slow, uneven pace, taking his time in making Sniper whimper and squirm on the end of his cock. Mostly, he was letting Pyro have his fun.

Each time the Russian giant pulled out of him, Sniper felt a yawning emptiness inside. It was slow, and with that slowness, it forced him to focus. On the fullness of the cock inside him, on the slippery mess his ass had become, on the twisted knot that was his gut, the searing soreness of his throat, the nausea that gathered inside him and seemed to rise with every shallow thrust of Pyro against his tongue. He felt empty, not physically, but an existential emptiness. He was just a body for them to fuck, to use, to do with as they saw fit, just as Engineer and Demoman had said. He was their personal come dump, a toy wrought of flesh, and when Pyro suddenly and without warning came in his mouth, he answered it with a sob that rattled his chest. Semen spilled over his lips as the firebug pulled out, panting roughly through their restrictive mask, eager to pull their suit back around themselves and close it. Sniper half-swallowed, drops of come and spit rolling down his chin. He bawled, hanging his head once Pyro was gone from his presence, and there was only Heavy left, his hands gripping tighter now that he was the sole abuser of Sniper's naked body.

And so he made the most of it, crashing into him with force, making the bushman surge forward and slam his shoulders against the stocks with a cry. He met him again and again with more of the same. Harsh, vicious thrusts hammered into Sniper's used hole, ramming the Russian's fat cock into him with slaps of flesh to flesh. Heavy rutted into him in a frenzy, blazing deep with every hurtful stroke. Sniper burned, Sniper ached, Sniper wailed, his voice loose in unmuffled, unbridled terror and hatred.

He screamed his agony, he screamed his shame, he screamed his lust and disgust and tears ran in rivulets down his reddened, come-stained face. His voice was hoarse, and as Heavy's balls slapped against his own, his whole body quaked in a barely contained fit of ecstasy and horror. His howls were mostly wordless, interspersed with pleas of, “No!” Gone was the anger and the bravado and the fight he had when he had egged his captors on to get it done with. All that was left was this sad creature, being jackhammered into by a massive man he couldn't even turn to see, the taste of semen on his tongue. He cried, as disgusted with his captors as himself, with the mounting pressure in his belly, the overwhelmingly blissfully amazing sensation of having his ass taken with such fury, his spine practically ablaze with electricity. He shuddered and shook, each thrust angled just right to surge through his body, to make his cock throb with increasing need. Heavy took his pleasure, but he gave it as well, growling with animalistic furor as hips clapped to ass.

Sniper cried out, his body's betrayal complete, his shame swallowing him whole as he came, spilling to the floor, his voice rising into a scream as Heavy kept railing at him. His whole body went tight at once, his very life force flooding out of him with his dignity and humanity, sullying the dirty concrete beneath him. Heavy bucked in over and over, milking it out of him, making him tremble and shudder, and with a low groan, the giant followed him over the edge, plunging in deep and pumping the broken man full of his seed.

He could feel the pulsing of Heavy's cock as he was filled his last, and when the Russian pulled out, he sniffled and wept, dripping from both ends. He slumped to his knees, straining against the stocks, his legs unable to hold him any longer. He knelt in his own ejaculate, dirtying his knees to match the rest of him, his body wracked with sobs that grew quiet in his desolation. He was pathetic.

Sniper dimly heard a clicking, and immediately, the stocks were opened, and he slipped out of it into a heap on the floor, a quivering mess. Gentle, delicate hands took hold of him, caressing his face, though he dared not open his eyes, laying there in a haze. He felt his head being cradled against warm legs, and then those hands were petting through his sweat-soaked hair, and soft words were being murmured to him.

“You are alright. You are okay. You are here, you are whole, you did so, so well,” Spy cooed, trying to coax his lover back to reality. “You are so beautiful. Michel. Michel, look up at me.”

Sniper did as he was told, opening his eyes. Spy looked down a him, unmasked and smiling gently, looking somehow both proud and worried. “Spy...”

“Je t'aime,” Spy replied, leaning down to kiss his lover's hair. The rest of the team kept their distance, cleaning up and letting the rogue coax Sniper back from the terrible headspace he had put himself into. “You are safe. I am here. We are here, and you are one of us.”

A smile crossed Sniper's lips, and he sniffled, lifting a half-asleep hand to wipe at his eyes. “Yeah, I'm—I'm alright, love. Thanks,” he replied, taking a deep breath and letting it rattle out, trying to dispel the sobs that still caught in his throat.

“You're welcome,” Spy smirked, tucking a stray hair away from Sniper's forehead. “Did you get what you wanted, cher?”

Stretching a bit, the bushman winced at the soreness of his body and groaned. When he spoke his voice croaked. “Definitely.” He looked over to the rest of the team and smiled. “Though next time, I want a few more rounds before we call it quits. Maybe somethin' a little less rough on the back?”

Spy heaved out a laugh, shaking his head. “For you? Anything.”


End file.
